Gregory Goyle and the Perils of Pedantry

Once upon a time there was a man called Gregory Goyle; and it must be admitted that not many people knew what to do with him. Poor Gregory had been born with a distinct shortage of cerebral matter, even by the standards of his family, which were not high. He had done only one wise thing in his life, apart from being born (and even on that matter people could be found to argue that he would have been wiser not to), and that was to join the victorious party in a great war of wizards. And when his party had won, and the enemy had been exterminated, there had been the question of how to compensate the most loyal supporters of the victorious party. Gregory was right at the top of the queue; for, even though nobody could exactly remember any major service he had made to the Cause, everyone knew that he had been a member from the very beginning. Besides, his family were important at court; and they put all sorts of pressure on all sorts of important people to find some use for Gregory - and take him off their hands.

Well, they tried. Nobody can say that they did not try. First they found him a place at the Ministry of Supply; but they had to dismiss him for sending several wagonfuls of pickled beetroot to a colony of hungry vampires in need of blood. The vampires had eaten the train driver, thrown the pickles away, and complained to the Ministry. So they shifted him to Finance; from which they had to dismiss him for a small spelling error. Nobody had ever told him that carrots were different from carats, and so he had managed to dispose of nearly the whole gold stock to a local greengrocers. After this, they tried him at transport, where he was responsible for regulations that seemed to ignore the need for air chambers to be full of, well, air. Finally he hit bottom at Police, where he failed to notice that two of his closest associates routinely wore badges that said I _ Harry Potter. It had never occurred to him that _ meant love.

At that point someone had a brainwave: check his school records and find something - anything - that he had been good at. There was a slight administrative problem procuring them, however, since his school, which was called Hogwarts, had been razed to the ground towards the end of the late war, and nobody wanted to go there: it was rumoured to be haunted by the vindictive ghosts of defeated enemies, and nobody wanted to go there. Finally, after the involvement of Lord Voldemort himself, the records were magically reconstructed.

It turned out that Gregory had been the best in his entire year at grammar and spelling. He was almost infallible in all the most complicated spelling questions, and a positive whiz at colons, semicolons, suspension points, and commas. So they made him sub-editor in charge of all government communications.

Three days after he began work, a furious Draco Malfoy stormed into his office. "Goyle, you complete moron," he exploded, "what do you mean by holding up a vital government communiqué on security policy three times running?"

"Poor use of semicolons."

"Have you lost your trace of brains? You held up a public statement for poor use of semicolons?"

"Poor use of semicolons," repeated Goyle obstinately. Draco rolled his eyes up to heaven, turned on his heels with a disgusted expression, and stalked of.

The next day, Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, came in with a gruesome expression on his already sufficiently frightening face. "Goyle, you miserable lout," he asked, "who gave you permission to interfere in communications meant for the foreign press?"

"Commas need to be substituted by semicolons."

"Goyle, try to act like a human being instead of a monkey just this once. Nobody pays bloody semicolons any mind."

"Commas need to be substituted by semicolons."

Lucius Malfoy breathed in deeply, to rein back the homicidal rage that had been mounting within him; then he turned on his heels, and departed.

The following Monday, his door was smashed open, and Bellatrix Lestrange, Minister for Defence, strode in. She seized him by his tie and dragged him across his own desk, then started shaking him savagely.

"Now see here" - shake - "you brainless" - shake - "little rat" - very violent shake - "When I draft" - shake - "a speech to the troops" - shake - "I don't expect" - shake - "idiot bureaucrats" - shake - "to hold up publication!" Very, very violent shake. "Have you understood me, you less-than-cretin?" And she threw him bodily against the wall.

Breathless and quivering, Goyle tried to point out that the use of inverted commas had been improper, but by the time he was managing to force the words out, the door-frame was still vibrating from the impact of Mrs. Lestrange slamming the door as she left.

The next day, Goyle knew enough to cringe when someone, once again, entered his office without knocking. "Good morning, Mr.Goyle," said a cultivated and agreeable voice. "I would like to be told on what grounds my interview with Rita Skeeter has been held up."

Goyle looked up and saw Lord Voldemort, smiling pleasantly.

.................................................................................................

As the next week started, Blaise Zabini found himself making small talk with Minister Bellatrix Lestrange. "Yes, I've noticed it too, Minister. A much more relaxed atmosphere all around."

At the same time, Peter Pettigrew was chatting with Pansy Parkinson. "Just a nicer, lighter atmosphere, all of a sudden. It seems everyone is breathing easier."

As Lucius Malfoy was telling Lord Voldemort, "All of a sudden the ministries seem more satisfied and efficient. I wonder why that is?"

Lord Voldemort smiled, and glanced at the new paperweight on his desk.